Before teens hit the 'cliff'

Lexus dealership exec tries to awaken them to harsh realities of life and the workplace.

Lexus dealership exec tries to awaken them to harsh realities of life and the workplace.

April 12, 2006|JOSEPH DITS Tribune Staff Writer

SOUTH BEND -- Always in a crisp suit, Perry Watson III carries the grace of a man who mixes easily in an affluent crowd, suave but aggressive. He sells one of the swankiest cars. Actually, he owns the Lexus dealership in Mishawaka. And on one evening, he pitches ideas about money to 14 teenagers who slump in their classroom chairs. To figure their worth in life, he calls on a girl with a calculator who keeps the hood of her fur-rimmed parka fixed permanently over her head. The best gig among the youths is a girl making $6 an hour at Burger King. "At age 16 or 17, you're going to be thrust into something called the marketplace," Watson calls out. The urgency in his voice comes from memories of when he was their age and shared their attitude -- and from gratitude that he changed course. Meeting the demand The Urban League of South Bend and St. Joseph County brought them together to awaken the teens to the working world's harshest realities. "Our business community is screaming for help in terms of people being prepared for work," says Urban League director Michael Patton, who bemoans the disparities that many blacks still face, saddled with low income and split families. "Young people are going to work with a lot of issues." This group is going through the seven classes in Watson's "Preparing Yourself for Life." It's just one of the various sections taught by local business leaders in a new, six-month Urban League program "Obtain, Maintain and Retain: Let's Go to Work." It will include job opportunities for the roughly 30 minority youths involved so far. Before class, 15-year-old Damian Allen listens to rap music on the headphones of his CD player and stencils his paper nameplate in orange marker. He thinks of a career as a lawyer, and if he can't do that, a pro athlete. With a 2.9 grade-point average at Clay High School, he says he's played basketball, football and track -- not this year, but he hopes to get back to it next year. Derek Bishop, 16 and a junior at Clay, said the class is "something to do, keep me off the street." He says his "B average" is better than last year's "C or D average" when he was at another local school where he had trouble with a couple of students. He says he'd like to play basketball in college, though he doesn't play for a team now -- just pounding the concrete courts at Alonzo Watson Park with friends. Watson raises issues with Sonia White about her daughter Montrice's "potential." "She has a what -- a 2.3 GPA?" Watson says. "And she says she wants to go to college? It's not too late." Sonia White says her daughter, a sophomore at Washington, is earnest this year: "She gave up sports." In fact, the mom shows off a glossy brochure for a program that could send Montrice to San Diego or New York for two weeks this summer to learn about her desired career: forensic scientist. The girl is looking for sponsors. She also has visited colleges in South Carolina and Ohio. Watson dives into class at a robust pace, covering the marketplace and the youths' roles within it. So many dots to connect. Dow Jones. Index. Supply. Demand. Goods. Services. Burger King wages. Neurosurgeon wages. Watson's face and voice, warm and inviting as a grandfather's before the class began, turns stern. "This is serious," he repeats. When he was their age He knows their place in society so well. "My parents kept me out of trouble because I was afraid of them," Watson recalls in a separate interview. He says he grew up in the projects of Muskegon Heights, Mich. His older brother took him to his college once, where the younger Watson felt inspired by the great thinkers he met. But he took stock of how poorly he was doing when he enrolled in Upward Bound during high school: "I didn't realize I had blown an opportunity." In one of his first Upward Bound classes at Western Michigan University, he recalls, he got a C while everyone else earned an A: "They looked at me like I was an idiot. I said, 'This will never happen again.'æ" Today he's outraged by the 50 percent dropout rate for students in the South Bend Community School Corp. It's as if he's watching their lives careen into low wages, welfare and hard times. He wants them to see that grammar, addition and subtraction do matter in real-world jobs. "They miss it big time -- as I did," he says. 'Life is going to be hard' He tells the group: "You guys have these big dreams and you're not prepared. You're heading for a cliff. ... That's real. That's where you're headed when you act up in school." He asks: What if they instantly turned 18, were booted out of mom's or grandma's house and had to fend for themselves today? What services could they sell to employers? "I can sing and cook," says Larry Redding. "I can handle money," says Murray Bishop. But their raw abilities alone won't land them jobs in banks or bars, Watson warns. "What's my point?" "If you ain't got skills, you ain't going to get a job," Larry says. "I've got some good news for you," Watson says, passing out a list of careers that education can gain and the average pay in each field. What do they take away from this class? "You can't be joking in school," Damian says. "You've got to take it seriously because it could hurt you in the long run." "Life is going to be hard," Kenny Anderson says, "so you've got to get what you can in high school."Staff writer Joseph Dits: jdits@sbtinfo.com (574) 235-6158